


Ink and Lyrium

by midnightprelude



Series: What We Have Lost [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-07-12 01:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightprelude/pseuds/midnightprelude
Summary: She couldn't understand how everything she said seemed to turn the Commander's skin from pale to bright red. She had brokered peace between warring nations, brought testy nobles to heel with a word, and stopped battles in their tracks, but she could never seem to find the words to put him at ease.That he would be trouble for her was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.After all, what is life without a challenge?





	1. Measuring Up

Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, Ambassador to the Inquisition, was not one for early mornings. She liked the dimmer hours of the day—the time when candle wicks were nearly expended, a glowing fire flickering down into its embers. That was the time for quiet, for thinking, and for secrets. She was under the distinct impression that all of the best plots were concocted between the hours of two and four in the morning, between when the drunks would stumble home from their nightly rounds and when the roosters began to crow. And if all the best plots were made at night, it was her job to seek them out before they could fester. 

Her way was not  Leliana’s . She did not lie in wait, straining for whispers. She could see conspiracies in body language, cryptic words, in handwriting. Every word carried a secret, either spoken or written. Even if the author or speaker was unaware of its presence. It was her job to know of these things, to understand them, before anyone else could. If she did her job well, she could smooth over issues before they needed to call in the Nightingale. And she was nothing if not effective.

This morning, however, her duties were a bit different. As ambassador, she was in charge of ensuring that  _ all  _ of the members of the Inquisition represented the goals of the organization in any social gatherings. The gala of the year was quickly approaching—the ball at the Winter Palace held in Empress  Celene’s honor in  Halamshiral . She had worked tirelessly to secure an invitation. It was not an easy feat, given that the  Orlesians had cause to fear the Inquisition’s growing power and support in Ferelden.  Celene was cautious, but eventually decided that the Inquisitor would be a better ally than a foe. She extended her hand, if not the direct approval of the court. Their lady Inquisitor was an elf, after all. An elf who kept the company of apostates, outcasts, spirits, and mercenaries. They would not make friends easily, but she would make sure that they made an impression. The Orlesian Empire would not want to compete with their military, if it came to it. Their party in  Skyhold may be small, but Cullen’s forces had garnered quite a reputation. 

Commander Cullen happened to be precisely the reason for her early morning. She had sent three seamstresses after him to take his measurements for their uniforms for the ball. Three seamstresses had been sent back to her after being told that the commander had “no time for frivolities”. This was her last attempt before she would be forced to seek the Inquisitor’s intervention.

The sun was just starting to crest over the peaks of  Skyhold when she made her way across the training yard. Commander Cullen was easy to spot. His blond hair seemed to glow in the soft morning light, his armor glinting in the sun. He seemed to stand half a foot taller than his men, even though his height was not exceptional in truth. It was the way he carried himself—like a man born into armor.

_ Perhaps if he weren’t the most frustrating man in the Inquisition, I would think he cut an impressive figure.  _

She didn’t finish the thought—that she  _ did  _ think he cut an impressive figure, despite of her growing irritation with him.

“Commander Cullen, may I have a word?”

He turned, clearly surprised to hear her voice this early in the morning.

“Josephine, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you up until after breakfast. Did you come to pick up a sword?”

She shook her head, frowning. “Do you realize when you send away my messengers, you are  _ directly  _ contradicting me?”

He cocked his head, raising his eyebrows. “I must be honest, Lady Ambassador, but I am not sure what you’re talking about.”

She sighed. “My seamstresses, Cullen. They need to get your measurements for your uniform.”

He looked at her, confusion still lining his face. “I have a uniform. I’m wearing it.”

She shook her head, sighing again, face in her palm. “Yes, a  _ field  _ uniform. Do you intend to wear that mud-stained jerkin into the Winter Palace? We’ll be laughed right out of  Halamshiral after the court gets one look at you.”

“Oh!” he said, suddenly registering her meaning. “They didn’t say it was for that. I can take a few minutes. Can we do it now?”

She had brought a measuring tape, but had not thought he would want  _ her  _ to take them. She supposed she knew the steps, but… It seemed intimate. Strange. 

But she knew that if she waited, he would probably find another excuse to avoid her. If others fail you, sometimes completing the task yourself is the best course of action. Another box checked that she would no longer need to worry after. 

“Is here okay?” he said, motioning to the field.

Her eyes narrowed, smiling slightly, the corner of her mouth drawn upwards. “You’re going to need to take off your armor for me to get the measurements.”

He nodded, blushing slightly. “Oh, yes, right. That would make sense. Well, in that case, we can use the command station.” He motioned her towards a red tent with the eye of the Inquisition embroidered on the door.

“That would be greatly preferred.” When he turned his back to her to draw the tent closed, she found herself shaking her head. 

_ He may be able to lead our armies, but he’s hopeless at social situations. I simply do not understand how his confidence on the battlefield does not translate. _

He turned back to her. “Now what?”

She  nodded, mind pulled back to the task at hand. She began a new sheet of parchment on her clipboard, writing down the necessary measurements. “You should take off your armor, as I mentioned. Otherwise your uniform is likely to fall right off you.” She didn’t look up from her clipboard.

“Oh, right.” He made no move to remove it.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

He shook his head, blushing slightly. “No, my Lady. I just... Would you be opposed to turning around? I would make sure that in the... case that something shifts while I strip down... Would you mind?”

She started.  _ He’s embarrassed. Not that he would have anything to be embarrassed about...  _

She shook her head, banishing the thought. “Yes, of course.” She turned her back to him, fixing her eyes on her parchment, tracing over the lines she had written, trying not to think of Cullen tripping over his greaves and exposing himself.

_ He’s half a fool, but it’s somehow less irritating and more endearing. Strange. _

She heard him clear his throat and she turned back around to face him. 

_ Maker. _

Cullen had taken off his shirt for some untold reason and he stood before her. She had never seen him without full plate before. His biceps were easily as large as her thighs, veins standing out against the muscle. She could not look at his chest. Or further down. It would be too much, and she knew it. He stood still now, but she knew that at a moment’s notice he could swing her up into his arms as though she was a rag doll. 

_ A master sculptor could not have created a work so fine as...  _

She blinked, face flushing.

“Something the matter, my lady?”

She coughed, hiding her smile behind her hand. “No, no, nothing is the matter. Just give me a moment and we can begin. I have my measure here...” She reached into a pocket, hidden beneath the ruffles of her dress. 

“Or maybe it’s here...” 

“Take your time. It’s not like I have an army to oversee.” His words were sharp, but his tone was tender. Even his sarcasm was gentle, cautious. He was an odd juxtaposition—body like an ox and words as soft as satin.

She pulled the length of rope out, finally, blissfully. 

_ Hopefully this will stop his staring. And perhaps provide a welcome distraction. _

She looked at him, specifically avoiding everything but his eyes. “You know, you could have left your shirt on.”

His cheeks reddened again. “Oh, yes, of course. You’re right. I can.”

She shook her head. “The damage has been done, unfortunately. Let’s just finish this.”

He nodded. “As you wish.”

She started with his arms, drawing the string across his bicep and trying to clear her mind of all thoughts. Next, his shoulders. The musculature on his back rippled at her touch and she closed her eyes for a moment.

His waist would be awkward. “Hmm. Can you hold this right at your belly button and I shall bring it around for the measurement?” She handed him the rope and he nodded.

She pulled the rope taught, wrapping it around his waist. It grew suddenly slack and she saw that he had dropped his end. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you would be pulling it. I can hold it more tightly.”

She shook her head, sighing.  _ Can’t make it easy on me, Commander, can you? _

“Let’s try this again. Try not to drop it this time or we’ll never get out of here.”

He nodded, flushing. 

_ Does everything I say to him bring out the redness in his cheeks? Is he truly embarrassed, or just fair skinned? _

She attempted the maneuver again, this time making it around him completely and finishing the measurement. She made it through all of the leg measurements as well without any problems. 

_ Oh Maker. I’m going to need to do an inseam. _

“Commander... I just have two measurements left. I don’t think you’re going to like them. I can take them, quickly, or I can describe to you how to do it. Which would you prefer?”

“Oh, I... Um... I see what you mean. Perhaps, it would be best... Maybe you should do it to get it over more quickly?”

_ That was not the answer I was hoping for. _

She nodded. “Alright, then. You can look away, if it makes you feel more comfortable.” She placed her tape on his stomach, stretching it downwards between his thighs.

“Um, Commander?”

“Yes?”

“Could you hold that in place? I’m going to go around to the other side and I’ll need you to hand it to me.”

He nodded, moving his hand to hold the tape against his skin. She moved around him and he handed it to her as she had requested. She pulled it slightly taut and took the measurement. And then she exhaled.

“Okay!” She perked visibly, thankful to be done with that particular measurement. “Just one left! I just need you to take a seat. This should be over soon.”

He followed her instructions and she measured from his waist to the chair.

She stood quickly, jotting down the number.

“Well done, Commander!” she said, slightly too cheerfully. “Now, that wasn’t too bad, was it? You could have finished that weeks ago and then I wouldn’t have needed to do it.”

“I am sorry, my lady. I shouldn’t have sent the others away. It isn’t exactly in your position to do things like this.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind, terribly.”

“I actually... I’m glad... I’m relieved it was you.”

She looked at him, head cocked slightly. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m... not great with words.”

She shrugged. “You don’t need to be. Well, I guess I’ll be off then! Need to take these to the seamstress. I will see you another time, Commander.”

“My lady?”

She turned to face him again, green eyes sparkling, cheeks red.

“It’s Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

“My name? You don’t need to use my title. We’ve been working together for months, now... I think first names wouldn’t be too forward.”

She extended her hand. “Josephine, then.” He took it, smiling.

_ Those eyes could make me melt.  _

She took her hand back, still tingling from the warmth of his fingers.

“Cullen, would you like to get a drink with me some time? I feel as though I hardly know you.” She did not know what demon possessed her to spew those words forth. She had to force her hand from reaching up to her mouth.

To her surprise, he smiled. “I would welcome it. Name your day and I will be there.”

She pulled the door to the tent open, grateful for the chill breeze. “I will let you know, Comm... I mean, Cullen. I will not forget, I promise.”

“I look forward to it,  _ Josephine _ .” 

_ Oh, I shouldn’t have told him to use my first name. He’s going to break me like that.  _

She pulled the door to the tent closed and strode off towards the castle. She hoped the flush on her cheeks wasn’t directly apparent.


	2. Slipping Her Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Fictober prompt: "Patience... is not something I'm known for." A short, baby chapter, which seems to be all my fuzzy brain can write these days!

It had been at least three weeks since their episode in the tent and Cullen was beginning to think that Josephine’s last words to him that day had somehow slipped her mind. She had asked him for a drink. He had told her give him a date and he would be there. She had promised she wouldn’t forget.

He had been able to think of little else.

Meetings in the War Council put butterflies in his stomach, because he _knew_ who would be there, smiling, laughing at his brutally efficient methods of dealing with problems.  


“Why can’t we just send in a few men? It’ll be far faster than dealing with the nobility—they’ll drag their feet for months until the problem fixes itself, in that everyone will be dead anyway, including us!”

She would tut and shake her head. “Commander, you underestimate me. They know who the request comes from. They will act quickly enough and without bloodshed. Trust me.”

He didn’t underestimate Josephine Montilyet, not for a moment. He _did_ however, think very little of the words of nobility, having known too many of them to be false. And there she was, referring to him by his title again.

_I thought we had spoken on this… She can’t have overlooked everything so quickly!_

He was adjusting the tiny wooden troops on the great map in the war room one day, after a particularly long meeting. The Templars were corrupted with red lyrium. His brethren. Cullen could have _easily_ been one of them himself, spikes of maroon crystals jutting from his back, eyes filled with an otherworldly glow. He shuddered. He liked to think he would have died along with Barris and the others trying to stop the bastardization of the organization he had once given his life to. He was not so sure. Still, he hoped.

Josephine was rearranging her parchment, cleaning up a spot of ink she had spilt upon the table. It was very unlike her to create messes; she was always cleaning them up and was very cognizant of adding more work to her pile of nonsense. She had seemed flustered that particular morning, quieter than normal and when she did speak she was short with them all. Like they were toddlers, every one of them. It was very strange, the entire display.

He realized very suddenly that they were the only two left in the room. Cassandra, Leliana, and the Inquisitor had all headed out minutes ago, discussing something about their spies and whether the Nightingale or Varric had turned up anything interesting on Corypheus’s movements. He hadn’t really been paying attention.

His cheeks turned red immediately. He did not know what to say to her.

She looked at him, her smile almost _nervous_. He wasn’t sure, but it really seemed like that was the case. Her eyes were darting around, not making contact with him for more than a second. He crossed the length of the table towards her.

“Commander,” she said.

He eyed her skeptically. “Cullen, remember?”

“Oh yes,” her laugh was nervous. “Of course. Cullen, I am sorry.”

“For… what could you _possibly_ be apologizing for?” His name? Was that enough to warrant an apology from her? He always thought she apologized too much; sometimes your actions don’t need a caveat. That’s what made them different. She was always trying to make sure _others_ felt comfortable. Cullen was mostly so preoccupied trying to maintain a semblance of comfort for himself that others would often slip his mind.

She frowned. “I hadn’t forgotten my promise. I just wasn’t sure how to ask you.”

He raised a single eyebrow. “Really? Even I could have done it. Lady Josephine, would you mind joining me…” He laughed. “Okay, maybe it is harder than I thought.”

She laughed. “You still want that drink?”

_Do I still want it? If only she knew._

“Nothing would make me happier. It’s been a heavy day… I think we could both use a few pints of ale. Or… wine? Or… what do you drink, actually? I’m afraid I have no idea. You seem like a wine woman. The finest Antivan reds? Or perhaps something from Tevinter? I can’t imagine you with a Ferelden lager, but you’ve surprised me before…”

She held up a hand, grinning. “I’m flexible. No need to try and guess my preferences. I have a taste for whatever my companions drink. It’s polite. Truth be told, there is a particular spirit I’ve found since joining the Inquisition that I have fallen positively in love with.”

He cocked his head, surprised. He couldn’t imagine her with _liquor_ , but then again she _was_ friends with Leliana. He imagined they had their share of drunken evenings…

His cheeks turned crimson.

_Best not think on that._

He couldn’t stop.

“Do tell, Lady Montilyet. I would like to know such things about you.”

She took his hand, his face growing redder at the sudden contact. “Oh, you’ll need to come with me to find out. I’m officially naming the day. Today. And the time is now. Let’s be off then,” she turned to him, winking. “Commander.”

If there had been a fainting couch nearby, he would have made full use of it in that moment, pride be damned. As things were, he simply allowed himself to be led from the castle, dazed, by a woman more beautiful and brilliant than he had any right to be drinking with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it may have taken literal months to update, but I have not forgotten these two! I hope you enjoy further awkward, lovable adventures with Cullen and Josie.
> 
> And make sure to check out my [Tumblr](https://midnightprelude.tumblr.com/)! I post updates on my writings, WIP snippets, and loooots of Dragon Age art. You can also make requests for things you want to see me write and I'll try to accommodate if I like the prompt. I almost always do. :)
> 
> Much love,  
> -MP

**Author's Note:**

> It's really fun to work with a POV outside of the Inquisitor. Josie and Cullen haven't been getting enough love, so I thought that I'd throw a little happiness their way.
> 
> Just a quick little thing before posting chapter 8 of ITI.


End file.
